Welcome to Off the Page, I'm Stephen Copeland.
2025 is the 800 year anniversary of St. Francis
of Assisi's Canticle of the Creatures. This poem
has had a unique and foundational place in Italian
poetry, and it reflects Francis's deeply relational
spirituality as he names different elements of
creation as brother, and sister. The circumstances
from which this poem arose, however, may surprise
you. When Francis wrote these beautiful words
in the canticle, his life was actually quite
bleak and miserable. This episode's guest argues
that the canticle flowed from Francis's spirituality
of letting go. which he learned to practice throughout
his life more and more. This, she shares in her
April 2025 cover story in the St. Anthony Messenger,
is its own invitation to each of us. It's an
honor to introduce to you our next guest on Off
the Page, Dr. Darlene Prides. Darlene is the
academic director of the Master of Theological
Studies Franciscan Theology online degree at
the Franciscan School of Theology in San Diego,
California. She has taught at FST since 2001,
and she has a special interest in lay Franciscan
spirituality and leadership. She's a historian,
she's a scholar, and she's the author of Women
of the Streets, Early Franciscan Women and Their
Mendicant Vocation. Why is a spirituality of
letting go so vital for our hearts and our minds?
How can it lead to peace and freedom? How does
the Franciscan approach to letting go align with
other religious traditions like Buddhism? And
how can St. Francis of Assisi and his life circumstance
from which the canticle flowed out of be a model
for us in our own lives? We explore these questions
and more in this special episode celebrating
the anniversary of St. Francis of Assisi's Canticle
of the Creatures. One final thing, to keep the
episode at an hour, we did not include reflection
segments this episode, but you'll find that Darlene
speaks in such a deliberate and contemplative
way that I invite you to pause throughout the
episode whenever your heart feels stirred to
do so and reflect on what she said. So there's
no shortage of Franciscan Lexio moments for you
to choose from in a conversation with Darlene
Prides. So without further ado, here's our next
guest, Darlene. Prides. Darlene Prides, this
is way overdue. Welcome to Off the Page. Hi,
Stephen. Thanks for this invitation. I look forward
to our conversation. I'm really looking forward
to it. We're going to dive into your April 2025
cover story in the St. Anthony Messenger. Your
cover story is based around the Canticle of the
Creatures here in this year where we're celebrating
the 800 -year anniversary of this beautiful Italian
poem. So to begin, Can you tell me about the
first time that you read St. Francis of Assisi's
Canticle of the Creatures and what impact it
had on you? Yeah, so full confession. I read
it the first time as a freshman in college, and
I read it alongside The Little Flowers of St.
Francis, and I hated them. I really just hated
it. I found it sappy. I found it sentimental.
I was really dealing with a lot of stuff around
religion and Christianity. And so I didn't like
all the God talk. And as I've said this in other
forums, this is how God works, right? God hooked
me this way because I just started studying Franciscan
history after that. It was a way for me to...
to try to understand Francis's life story. And
what happened, I went and got a PhD in Franciscan
history. And along the way, I eventually returned
to the faith and started rereading the canticle,
rereading the little flowers, and coming up with
a deeper appreciation. But I'll be honest, it's
only within the last few years as I've gotten
older that my appreciation for the Canticle has
really deepened. As I understand how Francis
came to write it and come to understanding my
own life trajectory and entering into this last
phase of life myself, the Canticle has a richer
meaning. Yeah. Can you talk a little bit about
that depth of meaning and how it kind of bloomed
for you? And maybe that'll get us into explaining
the background to this poem, because I think
when a lot of people read this, at least when
I first read it, it was just like. This sounds
euphoric. This sounds kind of, frankly, naive.
Like this flowery kind of poem. And then as I
started to learn more about it as well, I was
like, oh my gosh, the period of time from which
this arose is really quite remarkable. So can
you take listeners into that for me? Yeah, absolutely.
I think that for a lot of us, especially the
first time we come to reading this canticle or
hearing the canticle, we assume it's from the
young Francis. You know, for those of us who've
watched Brother, Son, Sister Moon Zaffarelli's
movie, we think it's about the young Francis
running through fields and with music of Donovan
in the background. But no, it really comes near
the end of his life, the last year of his life
that he starts composing it. So it's really a
representation of his mature faith, and he has
gone through so much, and it's not just a simple
trajectory. It is a complex life of ongoing conversion,
ongoing transformation, ongoing letting go, even
of some of his most... beloved thoughts and aspirations,
perhaps, aspirations for his community. I think
the way I view the canticle now is I start situating
it around 1220, when he is letting go of leadership
of the friars. He recognizes by this time, not
only is his health declining, but He doesn't
have the capacity to be an administrator, an
organizer, a manager of a growing order of men.
My colleague Bill Short uses this phrase that
I just love, and I think it encapsulates Francis's
way of being so well. He was clearly charismatic,
and people were attracted to him, but he couldn't
organize Lent in his pocket. And that's it. He
couldn't organize Lent in his pocket, but he
couldn't organize a whole group of diverse men.
So he lets go and renounces his leadership of
the order. And what happens to him when he retires
from leadership? That's what happens to any of
us when we retire or let go of a task or a project
that we really love. It's hard to let go. He
starts observing what the other guys are doing,
and he says, no, it's not supposed to be like
that. What are you doing? I don't even recognize
you anymore. He gets petulant. He gets angry.
He does all these very human things and has all
these human emotions that I really appreciate.
He's not this simple, sentimental guy who can
just run around in the woods all day long. No.
He's really feeling it. He's unashamedly himself,
it seems like. Absolutely. He can't help himself.
He's Italian. You know, he just can't help himself.
He lets go with his emotions. And he's really
quite petulant with his brothers. And this one
passage that I especially like is like, I don't
even recognize you anymore. I don't even recognize
it. Who are you? So it's a depiction of him,
but it's an honest depiction, and it's actually
probably from the Assisi compilation, because
that's the compilation of stories from his companions
where we get the real gritty Francis, right?
The real Francis. And I appreciate that. And
so he did have to wrestle with his own emotions.
He had to wrestle with letting go. He had to
wrestle with his health. Yeah, and what were
some of the health issues he was battling at
this time in his life when he wrote The Canticle
of the Creatures? Yeah, well, he had this chronic
eye disease that was very painful. And ultimately,
at the friar's insistence, he sought medical
attention and the doctor cauterized his eyes.
So you can imagine how painful that is. He didn't
eat well. He didn't take good care of his body.
So he suffered from malnutrition and weakness.
So he is declining in health along this way.
I mean, in a very real sense, he's nearing his
deathbed, correct? Like his weakness, his frailty.
Eventually. And that's why I'd like to see this
across, however, six years rather than just the
last year of writing The Canticle, because I
think the background is necessary. He's ongoing
letting go, letting go, letting go. Finally,
when he's at San Damiano being cared for by Claire
and the sisters, and he's surrounded by mice,
who he apparently doesn't like mice and rodents
running around him, he's in pain, recovering
from this cauterization treatment. That's when
he says, Praise to you, Lord, through Brother
Sun, Sister Moon. When he's finally composing
the canticle, he's at this place where he's already
given up so much. He's processed all of these
emotions and all of these situations, situations
that don't rest easy with him. What does he find
himself? He finds himself surrounded by God through
all of creation. And all these reasons to praise
God through all of creation. He might have had
to let go of this, that, and the other. But he
still has God. He still has his faith. And so
now, far from being the 18 -year -old freshman,
I just had my birthday. I'm 64 years old. I'm
just now finally, finally grasping the depth
of the canticle. And it can bring me to tears.
It can really bring me to tears. What stirs you
so much emotionally at this time in your life
about the canticle? many hopes and expectations
of my life, I realize how much more beautiful
life is. And that with my faith and with the
natural world around me, with the relationships
I have, there's so much beauty, so much more
beauty than what I had been hoping for. So it's
his life story and then reflecting on my own
life story that gives me the capacity to... really
see the canticle in new light. Yeah, we're going
to get into the spirituality of letting go, of
releasing ourselves, of our attachments, these
things that we're clinging to. I find myself
always clinging to things, thinking that that
thing is going to convince myself that I'm whole
or complete when all along. You know, it's what
it's that dynamic you're bringing us into that
we'll go into later. It's in letting go. It's
almost as if there's more space for truth to
flow through. But I wanted to get into something
real quick. The the context of you writing this
cover story. It's no surprise that you. Very
early on in your cover story, you get into this
element of suffering that you've been describing
in Frances's life. But you yourself were going
through something quite unfathomable. And your
loved ones were at the time that you're assigned
this cover story. Can you go into that? Yeah.
So I was writing this in January of 2025. I had
already outlined a version of the article back
in December, and then the fires erupted in Los
Angeles, in Pacific Palisades and Altadena, which
happened to be two places I had lived while I
was in college. I had lived in a community of
many families up in Altadena, and I had been
house -sitting out in Pacific Palisades for a
year. The stories, seeing the footage of the
fires and seeing the photographs and then reconnecting
with the people I'd lived with, it was just devastating.
And still, I can feel it viscerally. It is heartbreaking
to see the destruction. But what remains are
these friendships with the people I'd lived with.
So while I was experiencing this pain and suffering
of the destruction of these places that I grew
to love, I reconnected with people. And so it's
balanced or it's just this almost this roller
coaster of emotions because I feel so grateful
for the opportunities to know those people, to
have lived with those people. So yes, I was wrestling
with a lot of emotions when I was writing this
article. Yeah, well, it's interesting to me.
I'm not trying to make a false equivalency here
between what you were navigating and your loved
ones were navigating and what Francis was navigating
when he wrote this. But it's very interesting
to me that you're assigned this article. When
people think of Canticle of the Creatures, they
think of this beautiful poem that is praising.
God in creation. And yet brother fire, as you
call it, is wrecking this place that you love
as you're trying to write this article. And,
and to me, that's really, I love this piece so
much. And that's the architecture of it is that
just like Francis, this frail, very one would
maybe say a miserable, quite miserable, physically
miserable time in his life. that's when this
beautiful poem rises up. It's this collision,
it seems, of suffering, of confronting the reality
of suffering. And then also, well, there's beauty
here too. And in a mysterious sense, there's
God here too. And what does all this mean? And
for Francis, he wrote a song. He did write a
song, and that makes it rather simple, but I
think the collision, as you call it, is anything
but simple. It is complex, and we tend to see
one side or the other. There's all suffering
or there's all beauty, and by noticing it's all
together. And by noticing the beauty, you're
not discounting the suffering. It's all there
together. I think that is what brings depth to
the canticle, but also depth to these experiences
for me. I'm not dismissing the suffering by noticing
the beauty that is arising in the rebuilding
of these communities. And I understand there's
great complexity in the rebuilding of these communities,
great complexity and hardship. are beautiful
relationships that are being forged. So it's
both and. And I guess I could jump to talking
about an image that I often use specifically
to talk about Francis near the end of his life
as he's writing this canticle, because I think
it encapsulates much better than my own life
stories or my own reflection. And that is from
a statue that used to be at Mission Santa Barbara
in California. It was a huge statue. It was probably
six, seven, maybe seven feet tall. It was very
big. It was on a pedestal. So it was even taller
than that, 10 feet maybe. And it was made out
of driftwood. So rather than just a branch of
driftwood, imagine a whole tree of driftwood
that someone had carved an image of Francis out
of. And you can tell that Francis was originally
holding maybe a bird in his hand in front of
him. But as driftwood does, it was decaying.
And it decayed rather quickly. But it decayed
in one part. It decayed around the heart space.
And this whole space here of the statue was gone.
And that is where you could see that this log
was really redwood. A colleague and a friend
of mine, Sister Christine Still noted in a retreat
that I was giving, she said, notice that that
is the only place where you can see the true
color of the wood, where it has disintegrated,
where it has fallen away. And I feel there's
so much wisdom in that insight that Sister Christine
offered. You know, we build up our lives. Francis,
too, he was building up his life by letting go.
In our careers, we build up a persona, an identity
through our work, through our families. And really,
when we let go of what is not essential, that
is where the true color is. And that is in that
heart space. So I hope that makes sense. I use
that image a lot. I keep a photograph of it above
my desk just to reflect on daily because I think.
That helps me with the natural process of letting
go in life. You've hit on it several times already,
but this spirituality of letting go that your
cover story really revolves around in this movement
that you invite the readers into. I mean, that
image is so powerful. We could probably spend
the rest of this podcast talking about that image.
Like the most authentic piece of the tree is
shining through the brokenness. of his chest,
his heart. Yeah, so this spirituality of letting
go, go deeper into that for me. What does that
look like in our everyday lives? And why do you
think this is so important for people to perhaps
contemplate or give a chance? Yeah, I think a
couple things there. First of all, Of course,
still using that image of the statue, I would
say that this heart space has been opened to
be filled with Christ. I mean, that is what Franciscan
spirituality is about, to be Christocentric and
to be filled with Christ, Christ's love, and
to live into that love more deeply. And so what
does that mean to me as a Christian, as a Franciscan
Christian, leads me to Another aspect that I
try to cultivate in my daily life, and that is
to let go of my assumptions, let go of my expectations.
Assumptions and expectations are all about controlling
a situation, right? And to develop a sense of
curiosity, curiosity about the person I'm talking
with, what is their perspective. curiosity about
myself you know what's coming up for me in this
time in this moment am i feeling scared am i
feeling nervous can i own that or and when i
can really reflect deeply on my own experiences
then i can respond rather than react and i think
we have in francis's life and his trajectory
of ongoing conversion, we have a lot of episodes
of his reactivity. He gets really reactive to
the leper at first, and then he starts working
with that reactivity. In Celano's text, it's
that he, in grace of God, allows him to turn
around and face the leper again. That is true.
And I also imagine that he had to work with his
own capacity to face the leper. And he had to
do this over and over again. So I think it's
both and. So those are some of the ways that
I consider the spirituality in my life today.
Yeah, because Francis, even in the context of
his relationship with lepers, I mean, correct
me here if I'm wrong, but I mean, he's letting
go. He's letting go of everything that he had
been told growing up about who lepers were, why
you should avoid them. He's letting go of his
own judgments, his own kind of preconceived notions
that he had about them. And I mean, it's easy
to gloss over that, but that's a scary thing.
Like that is a scary thing to let go of. thoughts,
judgments, whatever it may be that you've been
holding true and you're realizing that, no, I'm
off base here. Absolutely. And I think there's
even a gentler way rather than self -judgment
of I'm off base, but there is more here. There
is more here than I knew. And can I open myself
up? And that involves letting go of my assumptions
and my habits, my habits of judging, my habits
of holding firm to certain rules or assumptions
again. So there's a lot of vulnerability in this
letting go. And it's no surprise that Francis's
conversion was ongoing. And when I tell his life
story, when I teach, You know, I feel that he
was converting up until his very last breath,
up until he was meeting Sister Death. And there
was this still ongoing letting go of expectations
and rules. After all, he invited Lady Jacoba
to be with him. And there was technically a rule
of no women at the porticula, but there she is.
because rules didn't serve in that moment, in
that moment. So he was really quite profound,
and I think there's a lot for all of us to reflect
on and to pray with in his life of ongoing conversion.
Yeah. Are there any other examples that come
to mind for you in Francis's life or Claire's
life for that matter, where the spirituality
of letting go is kind of unfolding? You mentioned
the lepers. Then you mentioned at the end of
his life as well, where the canicle rises up
from. I mean, he's letting go of a lot there
as well. Anything else come to mind for you?
You know, recently we celebrated the anniversary
of the Nativity at Greccio. And the way I talk
about the story of Greccio, because we can just
start in Greccio itself, but if we go back a
little bit, we recognize that the rule that was
accepted by the Pope, the Regula Bulata, had
just been... sealed by the Pope. And this signals
a new institutionalization of the order. And
by all accounts, this was leading the order in
a new direction, a way that Francis hadn't anticipated,
and that wasn't his original vision. And so perhaps
he left Rome saddened. Perhaps he felt dejected.
Perhaps he felt depressed or maybe unwanted or,
you know, who knows? As a leader who has given
up leadership of the order and now seeing an
institutionalization take place that he hadn't
anticipated, it's not hard to assume that he
was sad. And so what does he do? Instead of just
going straight up to Assisi, it takes several
days to get up there anyway, he sidetracks and
goes over to Greccio. Not an easy place to get
to. It's not easy even today. It's not easy to
get to. But he goes there for solace and for
community and to share faith with the people
he loves. He loves the people of Greccio. He
knows them to be very faithful. They had devotional
circles in their homes. He appreciated the depth
of their faith. And that's where he goes to fill
himself up again with the love of Christ. So
in this time of what I think is sadness and perhaps
doubt, he surrounds himself with people he loves,
lay people, and they celebrate together the incarnation,
the birth of Christ, in a new way and in a visceral
way. I think he was letting go, perhaps, of possibly
some habit energy of reactivity, of judgment,
possibly. That's just a speculation. But he finds
himself surrounded with people of faith, and
they develop this or create this beautiful commemoration
of Christ's birth. And I think that's really
important for us to hit on here, is that When
it comes to the spirituality of letting go, someone
listening may think to themselves, um, hello,
that sounds torturous. Why in the world would
I do that? I like my control. I like my judgments.
I like my certainty. However, from a Christian
kind of theological perspective, I'm curious
what you think about this, but God has been letting
go and we see that in the incarnation. this self
-emptying, this kenosis. So sometimes in my own
life, when I'm struggling with letting go, I
try to remind myself that by giving it a chance,
I'm actually kind of aligning myself with the
very trajectory of the Trinity. this Trinity
that flows forth, that self empties, that is,
I mean, the incarnation is one reading of it
would be that it's really quite out of control.
Like God becoming a human person, becoming a
baby who's dependent upon breast milk and is
pooping himself and peeing himself and is completely
dependent on his mom and dad to literally raise
him. to life and teach him and nurture him. I
mean, that is incredibly, talk about letting
go. I mean, that is a, and Francis was just absolutely
intrigued and even intrigued, fall short of how
much the incarnation meant to him. What do you
have to add there? Well, you're very theological
and I'm the first to say I'm not a theologian.
I'm a historian, but I would say that my most
important teachers in my life, my life of faith,
but also my life in general, without a doubt,
the most important teachers I've had are those
people I serve in hospice, the people who are
at the end of life, who are letting go of everything.
They don't have a choice. Some of them obviously
do wrestle and combat this process of letting
go. But I have learned so much about the wisdom
of letting go from them that I've even let go
of my own assumptions of how to. to be with people
at the end of life i when i first started volunteering
as a hospice caregiver i thought it was all about
talking with them and communicating with them
and and so what happens the very first person
that i spend time with we don't speak the same
language in fact she spoke a language that no
one understood it was her own language and over
across two years We got to know each other over
two years in hospice. We developed a very close
relationship, a friendship, not through words,
but by being together, by sipping tea together,
by looking at books together, mostly by being
together. So this letting go allows for more
beauty than one could ever expect. And it leads
to a certain liberation or freedom, correct?
Like when we think about the, sounds dry, but
the practical implications of a spirituality
of letting go, what we're talking about is how
can I, my interpretation of it would be, how
can I awaken to how free I already am? But my
attachments, and maybe this leads us to Zen and
Buddhism, but my attachments are the things that
are causing me suffering. And I think there's
neuroscience to back this up too, where our brains
tend to think about the conflict in our lives,
the negative things in our lives, the things
that lack resolve in our lives. So you have to
train it to savor the positive things. And one
way you train it is by letting go of the things
I'm trying to control. So do you have anything
to mention there about freedom, liberation, like
sell listeners on a spirituality of letting go?
Because it's painful, is it not? It is painful.
And I'd actually like to start off by saying
there are important ways of not letting go, right?
When I look at my life trajectory, and I see
this in Francis as well, he was trained to be
a certain way, to have certain aspirations, and
I think it's important to have goals. We build
up our self, our self -identity, through education,
through work skills, through career aspirations,
and I don't disparage any of that. in my life
and in fact I can recall when I was in my 20s
wanting to follow a completely spiritual path
and I remember telling myself over and over again
no first you have to build up to let it go and
I don't know if that's the only way to do this
but that is what I felt I had to do and I have
been on this this trajectory of letting go unexpectedly
in recent years in ways that I didn't plan. So
there it is. It's not something that you can
control or plan or really delegate to others
or to yourself. You know, I really don't want
to... necessarily be in a position of selling
this to other people everyone's on there I think
in the end for Franciscan spirituality I think
in the end it is very much like what I've come
to know in a Buddhist path of cultivating curiosity
of Of saying to oneself, to myself, I really
don't know. I've made all these assumptions.
I have all these expectations, but no, I don't
know. And Buddhists call it cultivating don't
know mind, beginner's mind. I love that your
article lands in this space of Thich Nhat Hanh,
well -known Buddhist teacher. Zen Buddhism's
alignment with the Franciscans kind of spirituality
of letting go. So for listeners who perhaps have
not heard of Thich Nhat Hanh or Zen Buddhism,
maybe talk about how his teachings and the teachings
of Zen have been valuable for you in your own
life and your own Franciscan spirituality. Yeah,
sure. Let me just focus on Thich Nhat Hanh and
Plum Village tradition of Buddhism, because Zen
Buddhism is even broader. And Thich Nhat Hanh,
who just died in 2022, a founder of what is called
Engaged Buddhism or Plum Village Buddhism. He
was a peacemaker. He was from Vietnam. He was
exiled from Vietnam because of his opposition
to the war in the 60s, at a time when he founded
the Order of Interbeing. He was criticized for
taking a radical stance of neutrality. this neutrality
which many Franciscans forget that the secular
Franciscans were originally founded on complete
neutrality, that they were not to take sides
in any conflict. So the deeply Franciscan element
too, they quickly moved away from that, but there
is that element in their history. But Thich Nhat
Hanh as a peacemaker came to the... what we call
the West. He founded Plum Village in France.
He spent time in the United States. He knew important
peacemakers like Martin Luther King Jr., Thomas
Merton. He had a great admiration for Francis
of Assisi. And in fact, when I attend programs
at Deer Park in San Diego County, which is a
monastery in the Plum Village tradition, I think
just about every time I attend a retreat, Francis
of Assisi has mentioned at least once, there
is this great resonance between the two schools
of spirituality, I think. For me, why I gravitate
to Plum Village Buddhism is that I'm able to
cultivate a sense of inner stillness along with
curiosity and it keeps me from my judgy self
i'm the first to admit how judgmental i am and
how i was reared to be judgmental and you know
getting a phd in history you're reared to be
judgmental and criticize sources and criticize
people but it is among practitioners of the plum
village tradition that i have first seen and
now experience myself a sense of inner stillness
so for me the the two are complementary um i
couldn't be a franciscan i think without engaged
buddhism and i'm not Just a Buddhist, I'm also
a Franciscan Christian. The two come together
deeply for me. It's all about quality of presence,
I think. And that means even presence with myself,
to notice my own tendencies or my own reactions.
I just notice more without getting caught up
in navel -gazing. I guess that's the phrase we
often use. Absolutely. Yeah. One of my favorite
books by Thomas Merton is Zen and the Birds of
Appetite, where he's exploring intersection is
not the right word because he's very, I'm no
expert on Zen Buddhism, but he does a good job
at the beginning of saying that like Christian
mysticism is kind of wrapped up in a lot of theology.
And in the West, we tend to attach ourselves
to theological ideas, thoughts, principles, all
these different things. Whereas Zen, the way
he explains it in his dialogue with D .T. Suzuki,
is this is a philosophy. It's like the great
Zen phrase, don't think, see. Don't think, look.
And I think you're getting into something really
important. It's a posture, correct? It's a presence
and an awareness to, and I think there's overlap
with Christian contemplation here too, but you're
trying to see, I don't even like the word trying.
That sounds like striving, but you're daring
to see reality as it is and step into that reality
with all of its messiness and to just observe
it. And like you said, be curious about it. Am
I on the right track there, or what would you
add? I would add just observe it is what you
said, and I would say be in it. Be in it. I think
it's really interesting, another comparison with
Francis and Thich Nhat Hanh is that both of them
have been subject to criticism, even disparagement,
as being superficial, as not being deep enough
or philosophical enough. Thich Nhat Hanh was
a significant scholar who worked in many languages
and wrote important treatises. And he had the
aspiration to bring this depth of being to a
popular audience. And so he was able to write
for a general audience, which is no mean feat.
You know, it's very challenging. And so I know
that many people also disparage or criticize
Franciscan spirituality as being really just
the spirituality of bird baths. We've heard that
before. There's a depth to Franciscan spirituality
and to engaged Buddhism because it's about living
into these principles. It's not just about thinking
about them and talking about them. It's about
living into them. And that's where the depth
is and the challenge is. Yeah, how do you live
into them? For engaged Buddhism, for Thich Nhat
Hanh's tradition, he has the five mindfulness
trainings and then the 14 mindfulness trainings.
And these are trainings that do not contradict
Christian practice at all, Christian faith at
all. But these are guidelines, one might say,
invitations. They aren't rules. You do this or
you don't do this. These are guidelines in terms
of how to live in a life of presence. And so
it includes being mindful of what we consume,
both in terms of what we read, what we look at
on TV or the Internet, what we consume and digest
in our bodies, how much we eat. and what we eat
that's just one example of one of the mindfulness
trainings and um another example is right speech
you know at what point when are we open to articulating
our views and thoughts and when should we refrain
so that we can be really deeply present in responding
rather than reacting So those are just a couple
examples, but they're helpful guidelines for
me to be living into a way that I aspire to live.
Yeah, you mentioned the word interbeing earlier.
What did that mean to Thich Nhat Hanh? The order
of interbeing, and interbeing is a word that
is used often in engage Buddhism. And it's slightly
different than a Christian notion, because he
would say that there is no individual self, that
we all inter -are. Now, that is not going to
be something Christians will accept, and I'm
not asking anyone to accept that, but I am merely
saying that it really opens up our heart to this
notion of interdependence, that I have as much
to learn from my students as my students have
to learn from me. That is a pedagogical strategy
and philosophy that I have as a professor, and
that's an example of interbeing. I'm not going
to take a top -down approach to teaching. I want
to learn from my students as they learn from
me, and that we all are in this world together,
to be together. It necessarily breaks down assumptions
and expectations of a hierarchical view of the
world and a hierarchical organization of the
world, and I'm comfortable with that. Yeah, is
there some overlap there with, or maybe is it
complementary to the Franciscan notion of relationality?
I think it's complementary to relationality,
and I think Franciscan spirituality has been
developed within a Western construction of hierarchy
that I would be more comfortable with dismantling,
or at least unraveling that hierarchy. But that's
just me. I think implicit in Franciscan spirituality
is relationality that is grounded in curiosity
to ask and to find out another person's intentions
or meaning rather than to assume. And I think
it's based on respect to keep. communication
open rather than to shut down based on office
or hierarchy. I think you can make a good argument
theologically. And again, I'm not trying to be
heady here, but just see the complementary kind
of forces between Franciscan spirituality and
Plum Village Zen Buddhism. Is that what it's
called? Yeah, Plum Village tradition, engaged
Buddhism. Plum Village tradition, yeah, engaged
Buddhism. But when it comes to the Trinity in
Christian theology, it's deeply relational, and
it's not hierarchical. And if at the very core
of all things is this relational dance, then,
well... Here's interbeing, interdependence, interconnectedness.
We all inter -are, as Thich Nhat Hanh says. I
want to get this back to lived experience, because
I think that's so important when talking about
the Buddhist tradition. But this can help lead
to a kind of integration, correct? Because of
that notion of embodiment, because you're seeing
reality as it is, you're stepping into the messiness
of a situation or the pure beauty of a situation.
It doesn't always have to be complex, but you
dare to stand within it and to take it in. And
to not attach your thoughts to it, but to just
take it in as it is. And this leads to, well,
where does this lead? I guess I just would like
to continue where you're going with that in that
where it took me, where your words took me was.
I think when we bring our whole self to a situation,
and that is using Frank Ostaseski's, one of Frank
Ostaseski's principles for Zen Hospice, when
we bring our whole self, not just our mind, not
just our thoughts, but our whole self, and that
involves noticing our visceral responses, that
is where the integration comes in, I think. All
I know for sure is my own experiences, but I
know growing up my brain was trained a lot, and
I was trained not to feel as much, and yet I
think naturally I feel a lot. And so this integration
has come in time across experience and really
letting go of some of the teachings and expectations
that people around me have. Really what is most
heartbreaking to me is when I am encountering
someone at the end of life who says, I don't
know what to think, tell me what to think. I
don't know how to do this, tell me what to do.
And I hope that in our life of faith that we
can bring our full selves so that we can ask
the questions along the way, that we can express
our doubts and our faith. and have open conversation
so that we can explore the authenticity of our
faith. So that when our last breath comes or
in the days preceding it, we're not in that space
of uncertainty and relying on someone else to
tell us what to think or be or do. And this doesn't
lead to an arrogance, it just leads to a profound
way of being in the world. A confidence without
arrogance. Authenticity that even allows for
changing of one's mind and changing of one's
habits, right? Yeah, and for me, Zen and... the
contemplation kind of advocated by the mystics,
by the Christian mystics, it's uncomfortable
to me, perhaps as someone educated, conditioned
by the West, is I like to wrap something up in
my thoughts. I like to extract meaning from something.
I like to... Sometimes it's not even that I like
to do it. It's just I naturally do it. Well,
this happened. Well, why did it happen? It must
have, you know, point A must take me to point
B. B must take me to C. And this is so challenging
to me because it's like the ultimate practice
of non -dualism where it just is. And in that.
And in that I can let go of just like Francis
back to Francis again, I can let go of my judgments.
I can let go of my meaning making and I can just
be in it. Um, curiously nonjudgmentally. Um,
and it is, and I'm there in it. Is that so hard
to find words for some of this stuff? Yeah, I
know. What you just shared really helps me understand
my own practice. Again, going back to hospice
caregiving, I developed a practice of writing
after each shift that I had. And I would write,
it would really come down to about a paragraph.
these paragraphs that i would write would usually
take me an hour to get to because it wasn't just
a linear delineation of what happened but really
it was a distillation of what i encountered and
um and when i look back on the that series of
i have probably 200 of these paragraphs when
i look back on them i think i always land at
Just what happened. Just what is. Not with any
meaning or any understanding of someone else's
experience, because I can't write about someone
else's experience, but what I experienced encountering
the person I was serving. And those writings
that I shared were probably the most popular
writings I've ever done. They weren't. high philosophy
they weren't complete they weren't super intellectual
it was just what is i think we have gotten so
far away from observing and being in our present
moment that it was those writings were a bomb
to people who read them there was just nothing
special and that's what made them so special
yeah i in our own In our own culture and society,
we all see the stats about religion on the decline.
However, it seems that people are more spiritually
hungry than ever. And in a lot of this kind of
quote -unquote spiritual talk, there's a big
emphasis on presence. Like, be in the moment.
Be in the now. Like, be a present person. I'm
not saying that doesn't have value, but the presence
that you're talking about that goes back to raw
encounter and taking everything in and standing
there in the midst of it, even things that are
deeply disorienting or confusing and not judging
them, that's a different kind of presence than
what we normally hear. Correct? Or what would
you add there? It's a deeper presence. You know,
whenever anything is reduced to a slogan, there's
going to be a superficial aspect to it. And people
will talk about it in a catchphrase, and it remains
up here. So cultivating a way of being present,
and again, returning to the words of Frank Ostaseski,
bring your whole self to the situation. that
does mean this self -awareness and noticing what's
coming up in every situation and really slowing
down. So one of the practices from the pandemic
that I took up, I went deep into contemplative
practice. For the first time, I was able to attend
a retreat at the Kamaldali's Order in Big Sur
because they started going online. and I deliberately
slowed down my speech. And I've noticed I've
continued that habit, and it's countercultural.
So this might offend some listeners here, but
I've just noticed a difference. I've noticed,
I'm judging this difference too, I've noticed
that in many Buddhist circles, they're very comfortable
with a slower pace of speech. There's no tendency
to interrupt. You can pause, even at length,
and they'll do like you're doing, maybe not even
nodding, just sit and wait for the completion
of a thought. And in other circles in which I
live and work, there is a tendency to jump in,
to add something. Even my own sentences have
been completed by many people over and over again.
And so there is a spaciousness to this spirituality
that I do see a difference in different religious
cultures. And being deeply present, I think.
necessarily slows down one's speech and allows
for space for the completion of sentences and
thoughts and even allows for the silence to allow
a sentence to land with no need, no need to add
anything. Yeah, spaciousness is a great word.
Yeah, I really like that. Going back to the canicle,
because there's a reason why you conclude your
cover story with Thich Nhat Hanh, with Plum Village.
Why did you end your article that way? What does
all of this have to do with Francis's canicle
of the creatures? Well, I actually have just
a very simple response to that. I was originally
asked to write an interfaith approach to the
canticle of the creatures. And so I had intended
to bring in Franciscan spirituality and Buddhist,
Plum Village Buddhism spirituality more centrally.
And then the fires started. And I couldn't get
there. I was stymied in writing that. That was
the article I outlined in December. And so it
was really the invitation to write an interfaith
exploration of Franciscan spirituality that made
me include Thich Nhat Hanh here. But that being
said, I do practice within the Plum Village tradition.
I am a member of Plum Village Sangha in San Diego
County. Even though I no longer live in San Diego
County, I still help facilitate that sangha.
I am a member of the Order of Inner Being, and
so this is just deeply important to me as a way
of life. I think I shared earlier, I feel I can
be more deeply Franciscan because of the Palm
Village practices. Every Monday night, It is
Sangha, and with those people, I've shared often
with them, it's such a privilege to be able to
be silent with them. We meet on Zoom, and there
might be five minutes, 20 minutes of complete
silence. And it's not everybody that you can
do that with. But it's not inconsequential. It's
deep and meaningful and helpful. When I reread
your article, I'd be curious what you think about
this. But to me, it brought it together so nicely
because in a way, that's what Francis was practicing
during this very vulnerable time in his life.
He had to have been incredibly miserable. He
had to have been incredibly uncomfortable. tortured
in a sense too, with these mice running around
them in the middle of the night, unable to sleep.
And I mean, and yet it's like everything from
his spirituality, his continual practice throughout
his life of letting go, it like comes through
mystically, magically in this moment where the
canticle is birthed. It was A lifelong practice
of letting go that allowed him to still connect
to a beauty and goodness that he had always known.
What are your thoughts there? I agree with that
summation that it is a lifelong practice. And
if we don't practice this over the course of
our life with all the ups and downs, the ebb
and flow and when it's easy and when it's not,
if we don't practice with all of that, then it's
easily to come to a place where we just rather
superficially bypass our own suffering, our physical
suffering or emotional suffering. We disregard
it. We don't even recognize it. And I have encountered
people who don't recognize their pain, physical
and emotional pain, because they've never had
the opportunities to explore it and to experience
it deeply. So I think where I'm coming from in
my life now, having worked with Francis's and
the canticle and then writings about his life,
is that it's a beautiful, complicated mess. And
it's all okay. And it's all beautiful. And it's
not superficial. And he didn't glibly welcome
sister death. He didn't add that stanza until
he was close to death. So this isn't just something
that he wrote out. This is something that he
lived into. And I pray for myself that I live
into this depth of presence and experience. And
earlier you were inviting me to teach the listeners
here something, and I guess I would just invite
everyone to live into the depth of their experiences.
as much as possible and to glean the fruits of
whatever's there. The thing that is just so moving
to me about the canicle and everything that you
write about in your cover story and then what
we've talked about here is that at this time
where Francis could have felt very discouraged
and isolated, everything was still relational
to him. There's something so crazy to me about
that. I think it's so beautiful. I can remember
a woman that I served in hospice who, whenever
I would show up, she asked me to wheel her outside,
and we would just sit in a garden. We didn't
talk. We just sat, and we felt the wind on our
cheeks and listened to the birds. smelled the
pine trees. There is a settling in to being present
that I think is a skill actually. It is something
that needs to be practiced in order to experience
it fully. I think we don't honor stillness enough
in our culture. Talk about an invitation. I mean,
that's it. I mean, the canticle in a lot of ways,
it goes back to Francis's own spiritual posture
of stillness, I think. Yeah, if I could just
add to that, I mean, that's a part of Francis's
life that we often don't talk about enough, about
his experiences. in hermitages is his experiences
of solitude because we we don't know right he
didn't write out what he was doing and we just
know that he sequestered himself he would be
apart from him from the other friars he might
eat with them or he might eat apart from them
but what happens in solitude We have to speculate,
but that is where the depth of this kind of presence
can get cultivated. Not necessarily, but I think
it did with Francis. And I think in our Franciscan
world, among all of us practitioners, we tend
to emphasize the doing, doing, doing, rather
than the stillness and the contemplative side
of this practice. I think it would be wise to
remember that Franciscan practice or doing is
based in stillness. It's based in contemplative
prayer. He lived in contemplation longer each
year than in actual active ministry. So when
he went to Rome and was serving with Lady Jacoba
in the hospice in Trastevere, it was after weeks
and months of contemplation yeah and in stillness
and contemplation is such a challenge in our
culture you know at least for me because it it's
in it's in that stillness that for me i'm kind
of giving myself permission to not cling to to
Not jump to the next thing. This is what it is.
To not root my own identity in my own doing.
And instead just to be. And for that to be enough.
Yeah, I have two things to say to that. First
of all, I see this, we see this, people heading
into retirement age, how hard it is to let go
of work. And we see this among lay people, we
see this among vowed religious, when self -identity
is based on what they've been doing. When the
invitation is there to retire from the doing,
many people are at a loss of their self -identity.
So there's so much there to reflect on and to
work with. But self -awareness of the struggle
is the first step. The other thing that what
you just said brought to my mind is, I'm just
going to tell you a short story from my youth.
As a very young girl, like four years old, I
would go into a closet and sit. I'd close the
door and there'd be a little crack. And I still
remember what it looked like. I could see little
particles of dust with the light coming through.
And I just found so much peace there. No one
else in my family did that. And my parents were
very concerned, very worried about me because
I would go through the closet. And apparently,
I guess one time I fell asleep, and so my mom
was frantic and started calling all the neighbors
because she thought I was lost. But my point
of saying all of this is that this can be instinctual
for some people, but it's countercultural. And
people are concerned about people who like to
be alone. And it gets trained out of us. Well,
before you conclude here by reading the last
couple paragraphs of your cover story, do you
have anything else to add? Anything I left out
or anything you would like to hit on before we
kind of close shop here? You know, we've covered
quite a bit. I think we covered far more than
I expected us to cover. So I think it's good.
Did you want me to read the last two paragraphs?
Is that it? Yeah, I think that would be a great
place for us to conclude, Darlene. If you could
read the last two paragraphs of your April 2025
cover story. And that cover story, again, is
titled Living the Canticle of the Creatures.
Francis's experience with loss illustrates a
path to deeper relationships, including with
God. More than just thinking about the sibling
connections Francis sang about in his canticle,
I'm now sensing these connections with the world
around me on a deep, visceral level. This is
what Francis was getting at, cultivating a rapport
with this world that is not abstract or merely
transactional, but instead experiencing the world
viscerally, without judgment or denial, without
resistance or avoidance. As a brother and a sister,
with all the familiarity and tension implied
in a family. It is an experience that could make
us quite vulnerable, which is why much of the
time most people run away from this closeness
and disregard or trivialize this way of being
with judgment. But when the realities of life
hit, and you've lost everything. What is left
is the stunning beauty of our relationships with
one another, with this world, and with our God.
This path of interdependence is care -filled,
relational, and felt. This is how we come to
understand the real wisdom of Francis and begin
to live the canticle. Beautiful. Thank you for
coming on Off the Page, Darlene. Thanks, Stephen.
It's been a joy. Once again, that was Dr. Darlene
Prides. Her cover story is available on our website,
franciscanmedia .org, where you can also subscribe
to the St. Anthony Messenger. I've dropped a
link to her story, to the photo of Francis that
we discussed in the episode, among other related
links and helpful material in the show notes
for this episode. If you feel inclined, please
consider leaving a review of the podcast or visiting
the donation link in the show notes to help us
continue to create content like this. Thanks
again to Darlene and thanks as well to Father
Cyprian Concilio for providing the music for
this episode. This is Stephen Copeland signing
off. Peace and all good.